I told one story about poverty in the last blog. Here is another.
I visited a town and castle called Fatehpur Sikri in India. It is near the Taj Mahal. The castle was built by Akbar the Mughal who ruled from his castle between 1571 and 1585.
A brief aside. Akbar built the castle based on the advice of the Al Gore of his day, Salim Chishti, who claimed to be a seer. Trouble was that there was plenty of rain and water when the castle was conceived, the end of the Medieval Warming Period. After it was built the world entered a long cooling period (called the Little Ice Age) and water dried up. The castle and surroundings could not support much population and had to be abandoned.
After doing the tourist thing and looking through the marvels of Fatehpur Sikri, I went outside the gate to wait for my traveling companion (usually half hour to and hour wait). As in the rest of India, I was swarmed by beggars, most who whom were trying to sell me rugs from the nearby shops or other knickknacks. They were between 14 and 17 years old. One particular beggar stood out. He was a hunch-back with no legs. He propelled himself on a wheeled cart.
I told them all to 'beat it, leave me alone'. They withdrew out of sheer surprise at the force of my voice. They slowly ventured closer and started to ask questions. I asked back and we got into a long conversation. I did pay for a coke from Abir, on the wheelie, who owned the coke concession. Abir turned out to be the boss. The rest of the gang all had a share of the businesses they promoted and they all went to school, had families and most importantly.... they were happy kids, having a wonderful time with each other when they weren't looking sad and dour for the tourists.
We had a wonderful time together, kidding, laughing and teasing.
When I hear a tirade on the horror of poverty, I remember Abir and my beggar friends from Fatephur Sikri in India.